Bleeding
by fyd818
Summary: Sequel to "Soul Mates." Their battle with the Wraith could not compare to this. Whoever said happily ever after was for good? AU RononTeyla .:On Hiatus:.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own "Stargate: Atlantis" and don't claim to. (If I did, Teyla and Ronon would be happily married with half-a-dozen kids by now.) I am making no monetary gain from this, it is meant for entertainment purposes only.

Summary: Sequel to "Soul Mates." Their battle with the Wraith could not compare to this. Whoever said happily ever after was for good? AU RononTeyla

Rating: T

Warnings: Violence, character death

Pairing: Ronon/Teyla

Title: _Bleeding_

Author: fyd818

Part 1/?

Author's note: When I finished _Soul Mates_, I promised myself it would be a one-go story. That the readers would decide what happened to Ronon and Teyla after her vision in the epilogue. However, my stubborn mind refused to cooperate with me, and now here I am, writing a sequel. To give you an idea of a timeline, this fic starts out _about_ a year after _Soul Mates_ ended. I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!

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"**Bleeding"**

_fyd818_

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-Prologue-

Red streaks colored the backs of his eyelids, a bright reminder of something he couldn't quite remember. His body registered several points of pain as the screams of the dying and wails for the lost filled his ears. _Impossible,_ he thought fuzzily. _This can't be happening._

In the distance, he heard the sounds of official voices – military or police. Their response timing was impeccable – the only way they could have done better was to stop the trouble before it happened.

Ronon Dex opened his eyes to a sky choked with thick grey smoke. For a detached moment, he wondered where the fire was. He started to move his head to look around, but the crunching sound of broken glass beneath him made him freeze.

A familiar voice called from his left. "Over here – we need a stretcher!"

"Sheppard." His voice was thick – it was hard to breathe with all the smoke. Ignoring the glass this time, he turned his head to see his friend.

"Hang in there, buddy." John's expression was grim, his eyes tight. "We'll get you patched up in no time."

"What happened?" There were so many loose memories rattling around in his head, puzzle pieces he didn't know how to fit together.

A carefully shuttered look met his unsteady eyes. Sheppard shook his head. "Now isn't the time," he said. "We're investigating."

"It's _Atlantis_," Ronon protested single-mindedly. "_How_—?" Something else was frantically trying to shove its way into his memory, something important. He couldn't think straight, his mind was so _fuzzy_. If only he could get rid of the fog, then he could remember. . .

"I don't know. Don't push it, just stay still. There's a medical team coming over right now – they'll stitch you up. Then we'll talk about it." Sheppard's eyes stayed firmly locked on his, as if he were trying to keep from looking anywhere else. Or like _he_ was trying to keep _Ronon_ from looking elsewhere. . .

Stubbornly, he tore his gaze from his friend's to look. Small fires burned spasmodically in the immediate area, but it seemed they were under control. The ground glittered like a bed of jewels from a layer of broken glass. All around lay the unsalvageable remains of a majority of the carts – and their wares – that had once lined mainland Atlantis's Market Street. Mingled with the ruins lay bodies – a nauseating number, most of whom Ronon was sure weren't still alive.

He turned his head still further, attempting to see whatever Sheppard was keeping him from seeing. They were both soldiers, and his friend knew that. This wasn't the first time Ronon had seen destruction. . .

. . .But it was the first time it had affected him like _this_.

Less than a foot away rested a familiar, crumpled form, wearing an outfit he'd watched her put on just that morning. Long red-gold hair feathered over the ground, hiding her face, a broken hair clip still tangled in the strands. He'd gotten her that clip. . . And, peering from beneath her collar, the other half of the necklace he wore.

"Teyla!" Ronon moved, trying to push himself up, at the same time reaching out for her.

Sheppard gently but inexorably held him down. "Don't," he pleaded. "Don't. She's—" He shook his head.

Dizziness struck him. He wanted to blink, to see if that would help, but he couldn't make his eyelids move. He couldn't stop looking at her. Ignoring his friend's warning, Ronon reached out to grasp her hand, his thumb moving to the pulse point on her bloodied wrist.

Nothing.

"Ronon—" Sheppard began.

"No," he said. He wasn't talking to John – he wasn't talking to anyone. The grief welled up in him, but he couldn't voice them. His mouth refused to work. His eyes felt too dry; he blinked, and then a river of tears fell down his face. Though his mind wouldn't accept what he saw, what he felt, everything else was telling him the truth was irrefutable.

His wife was gone. _How is _this_ our happily-ever-after?_

_-To Be Continued-_


	2. Old Friends

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 2/?

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-Chapter 1-

_Old Friends_

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Ronon woke to chirping birds, the early dawn light making the entire room too bright. Moaning, he squeezed his eyes shut and rolled over, automatically reaching out to draw his wife's warm body to him. His hand landed flat on the mattress. She wasn't there.

"Teyla?" Eyes still closed, he patted along the still-warm covers until his hand encountered – something. Wide awake now, his eyes snapped open as he sat up to look.

A suitcase. Why was a suitcase on the bed, and why _wasn't_ Teyla there in its place?

The bathroom door opened, and Teyla appeared, her arms full of toiletry items. "Good morning, Ronon!" she said cheerfully. "At last, you are awake."

Ronon rubbed his eyes. "What? Why – why are you packing?" He looked pointedly at the suitcase.

Teyla dumped her armful into the bag, then climbed up on the bed. She crawled across it and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Was he imagining it, or were her nails pressing ever so slightly against his skin? "Do not tell me you have forgotten already!" she said.

He nuzzled his face into her neck, giving himself a few extra seconds to think. There_ was_ something important. . . "Oh. _Oh_. That's today?"

"Tomorrow." She playfully poked his shoulder. "Which is why we are leaving for Atlantis _today_ – remember?"

Ronon caught her hand and kissed her finger. "Yes, I remember." Drawing her hand to rest on the bare skin over his heart, he leaned closer and kissed her lips. "It'll be nice, going back to Atlantis," he mused. "It is where this all – sort of – started."

"Certain things, yes." Shifting her position, Teyla snuggled into his side as he leaned back onto his pillow again, both arms wrapped around her. "It will be nice to see everyone again. I have missed them." She tipped her head on his shoulder, looking up at him as a smile stretched her lips. "And, I will _love_ being on the beach again. I did not realize how much I missed the sand, and the water."

Humming noncommittally, Ronon thought back on the last year. Over the course of settling on Sateda, enjoying the freedom of not having to worry about the Wraith ever again, and being married to the best woman in the galaxy, he'd lost track of time. But there was no doubt that celebrating his and Teyla's first marriage anniversary on Atlantis was the perfect idea.

Sometimes, the magnificent mainland city felt more like home than Sateda. His and Teyla's romance really started to blossom while they were staying in Atlantis, and they'd married there.

How appropriate that he'd booked suite 761 at the Royale Lantia for them. Teyla had been very amused when he told her that. "Returning to the roots of our romance?" she'd asked.

Ronon calmly kissed the tip of her nose and winked. "Perhaps," he'd responded.

In truth, they were. Having the equivalent of a second honeymoon on Atlantis was definitely a wise move, as far as he was concerned.

As Teyla leaned up to kiss him deeply again, Ronon was sure she thought so, too.

**-Atlantis-**

"Mr. and Mrs. Dex, welcome back to Atlantis!"

Ronon grinned as he enthusiastically shook hands with his old friend, John Sheppard. "How's life treating you, brother?" he asked.

Sheppard shrugged. "Eh, a little of this, a little of that, and _lots_ of flying!" he said. "I must admit, tourism and visits to Atlantis in general have really increased since the Wraith's destruction. Plus, you know. . ." He shrugged again. "You're celebrities, basically. Once word got around that you stayed on Atlantis, everyone else wanted to come here, too."

Of all things, Ronon and Teyla _hadn't_ wanted to be famous. They'd just done their duty, then tried to forget about it, to move on from it. Unfortunately, it kept coming back to haunt them. "You don't think we'll encounter any problems while we're_ here_, do you?" Ronon asked.

John shrugged, leading the way up the grand staircase toward the jumper bay, where a ship waited to take them to mainland Atlantis from the grand, opulent Water City. "I wouldn't _think_ so," he said. "Just don't refer to each other as 'Ronon and Teyla Dex' while you're here, and you should be fine. Your names are bigger than your faces, no offense."

Teyla tucked her arm through Ronon's, reminiscent of their very first trip to Atlantis. "Thank you for flying us over," she said, efficiently changing the subject. "We have not pulled you away from any important duties, I hope."

Sheppard laughed. "Are you kidding? I jump at any chance to fly – particularly when it's a favor for some friends. It's not a problem." He glanced over his shoulder, still grinning. "Besides, I brought a surprise for you guys."

Ronon and Teyla's luggage, already awaiting them aboard Jumper 1, outlined a neat walkway between the back hatch and the back two jump seats. As the trio approached the cockpit, the figure seated in the co-pilot's seat stood, turned to face them, and exclaimed, "Ronon and Teyla, my dear friends! It is wonderful to see you again!"

Pausing, Ronon studied the unfamiliar woman for a moment. Warm green eyes smiled at him from beneath long, feathered dark bangs. The rest of the woman's hair hung over her shoulder in a braid, and her peaches-and-cream complexion looked slightly tanned. Ronon didn't recognize her at all. At least until he looked closer: at the build of her tall, lithe body, and the planes of her face. "_Illydia_?" he and Teyla exclaimed at the same time.

The woman laughed, showing off her smooth, pearly-white teeth. "I was wondering if you would recognize me!" Stepping forward, she hugged Teyla and shook Ronon's hand. "Welcome back to Atlantis, my friends! I have missed you considerably."

Laughing, John squeezed past them and dropped into the pilot's seat. "Buckle up, kids," he said. "We'll all play catch-up on the way to the mainland."

Ronon sat down behind Sheppard's seat as Teyla quickly sat behind Illydia. "So Carson's serum really worked?"

"Yes." Illydia seemed to be glowing, she looked so happy. "There were a few roadblocks, but in the end, we managed to perfect it." She held up her hands, looking slightly embarrassed. "And here I am."

Teyla sighed. "I do wish people would have accepted you the way you were," she said. "It is not fair that _you_ had to change for them."

Ronon agreed. While at first he had been very mistrustful of Illydia, in the end he'd had to admit how completely trustworthy she'd proven herself to be. After all, she _had_ saved his life. . .

Illydia smiled. "I am very happy with my life the way it is now," she said soothingly. Her smile turned a little rueful. "It was difficult, both before and after I came out of the stasis chamber. I wanted to be normal. I did not want to be like the hated Wraith – to look, act, or be _anything_ like them. So it is good, for me, to be like this." She motioned to her face. "I am human now, and this truly is better for me."

Teyla smiled widely. "That is so wonderful, Illydia." She glanced at Ronon, a tender look in her eyes. "Ronon and I got our happily-ever-after – I was so afraid you would not."

Illydia's smile grew wider. "Well—" She shot a quick glance in Ronon's direction, then bit her lip and said softly, "Teyla, do you remember our conversation?"

Ronon's wife nodded. "I do. Do you mean—?"

Laughing, Illydia nodded. "Yes! I found my Ronon." She smiled unabashedly at Ronon. "Do excuse me, please."

Ronon nodded slightly, not quite sure how to take it, but thinking it _might_ be a good thing.

Teyla leaned forward and hugged Illydia tightly. "Illydia, _who_?"

A blush crept across Illydia's smooth cheeks. "Carson," she said. "I wanted to send you both invitations to the wedding, but it was all sort of whirlwind, and I wasn't entirely sure how to contact you on Sateda, and—" She drew in a deep breath. "Excuse me, I'm just rattling on." Shaking her head, she continued with a softer voice and slower words. "After Carson administered the serum to me, we both knew I would be able to go out and have a normal life. Obviously, I would need a last name, so while we were sitting there theorizing, Carson – dear man – he asked if I would like to share his." Another bright smile lit her face. "We haven't looked back since." Illydia, who had the co-pilot's seat turned backward so she could face Ronon and Teyla, willingly leaned forward to accept Teyla's hug.

"That is _wonderful,_ Illydia! I am so, so very happy—" Teyla looked unable to finish.

Illydia smiled. "I am also going to the university. I am training to be an archeologist, like Elizabeth." She nodded firmly. "Dr. Weir has been looking for a new assistant/foreman – or, I suppose it would be fore_woman_, in my case – and she offered to train me while I went to school. So I am all set up with a career after I graduate!" She smiled, her green eyes wet with tears of joy. "I feel so fortunate," she whispered. "Everything – _my_ happily-ever-after, too."

Ronon exchanged a glance with Teyla, then leaned forward to awkwardly pat Illydia's hand. "You deserve it," he told her. "You really do. You're a good person. We're both very happy for you."

Sheppard cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt – but we're getting ready to land."

Illydia and Teyla kept chatting happily as Ronon leaned forward to talk to his friend. "How're things going for you?"

"Not bad. Now that the Wraith are gone, the Atlantian military isn't _quite_ as ship-shape as we used to be. Now we're more or less just around to look official and settle tussles in the marketplace." He shook his head. "Now don't misunderstand me – I'm _not_ complaining. The eradication of our worst enemy has given me _plenty_ of time to think about what's important in life, and where I want mine to go. Just – sometimes I wish _something_ interesting would happen, you know?"

Ronon had to agree. Sateda's army had basically gone by way of the Atlantian – without a major enemy power in the Pegasus galaxy, they had nothing to do but keep the peace within Sateda's borders, as well. Ronon found himself feeling more like a police officer than a Specialist in the military more and more every day. "But we don't want another enemy to rise in the Wraith's place," he murmured.

"That's true," John said. "Ancestors, that's true. I can't imagine having to fight another." His shoulders tensed, and he glanced over at Teyla and Illydia. "And to be truthful, buddy, I don't want to have to watch you and your wife go through that again. You're both like my family, and – well, it was hard to watch and not be able to do anything."

Ronon clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You got us _off_ that planet before the Wraith wiped us out, too," he said. "You're selling yourself short."

Sheppard shrugged. "If you say so." There was a soft _thump_ as the jumper landed, then the back hatch softly whirred as it lowered. "Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Mainland Atlantis, and thank you for flying Jumper Air. I hope you enjoyed your flight, and that your stay here is pleasant."

Teyla caught his eye and grinned, her expression shouting that she was thinking the same thing as he.

Ronon rolled his lips together to hide his own grin. _Oh, yes, it will._

_-To Be Continued-_

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**Author's Note**: I am so sorry! I honestly mean to update this sooner, but my first week back at college _plus_ the mother of all stomach viruses has had me running circles around myself. I'm going to try to update this sooner, I promise! Once more, I'm sorry for the long wait – I hope this chapter was worth it!**

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**TheWelcomeStranger**: I'm sorry! If it makes you feel any better, I feel horrible for the prologue. But I promise this chapter is much lighter. I'm sorry for the long delay between chapters, but I hope the wait was worth it! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**AthosionWarrior**: I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry! -hugs- I am glad you liked the last chapter, though I am very sorry I made you wait so long for this chapter. I hope the wait was worth it, and that you enjoy! Thank you so much for the review!

**CanadianHalliwell**: I am so, so sorry for taking so long to update this! Now I feel even meaner, after the prologue. But I promise this chapter is much lighter and happier in the face of the other – I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much for the review!

**bailey1ak**: Well – I promise there will be Ronon/Teyla romance in this story (especially in the next chapter! -wink-), and that this chapter is much happier and lighter than the last one. Wow, thank you so much for the compliment – but now it makes me feel guiltier for taking so long to update! I really hope the wait was worth it, and that you enjoy this chapter! Thank you so much for the review!

**Bunnylass**: I'm sorry, I'm sorry! -hides- I feel so guilty, I left you with a mean prologue, and then I took so long to update! I am glad that you enjoyed the prologue, even though it was rather foreboding. . . And I'm glad that you're happy that I'm doing a sequel – I hope it can live up to _Soul Mates_! I'm sorry again for taking so long to update – I hope the wait was worth it, and that you enjoy this chapter (and I promise that I'll try to update _Empire_ tomorrow!)! Thank you so much for the review!

**SpaceMonkey0941**: O-o-o-o-o-h, boy. -runs and hides- I promise, I promise, there is a very good explanation for the prologue, and that I do have a plan (and I hope you think it's a good one!)! And I also promise that this chapter is lighter and happier, and the next one will be even better! LOL I am glad you liked the start of this story, though I'm sorry I left you so long without the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it, though, and thank you so much for the review! -hugs-

**Dia**: Hehehe. You're funny. I promise everything will make sense in time, and that you probably won't be _what the heck?!_ing after this chapter – it's much happier than the last one. (Night and day sweetie, night and day.) I'm sorry I made you wait so long for this chapter, though – I hope the wait was worth it! Thank you so much for the review, I hope you enjoy the update! -hugs-


	3. Anniversary

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 3/?

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-Chapter 2-

_Anniversary_

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Ronon looked at Teyla from under his brows, trying to gauge her expression. Holding her half-eaten sandwich in one hand, her cup of tea in the other, she seemed content to sit watching the hustle of the marketplace's crowd with idle interest.

"I talked to a contractor yesterday," he said with forced casualness.

"Hmm?" Teyla seemed to be off in another world, a dreamy expression in her eyes.

What, he wondered, had her so preoccupied? Reaching in his pocket, he withdrew a folded sheaf of papers and tapped her arm with them. "Have a look at this."

Teyla blinked a couple of times. Turning, she carefully set her tea down next to her on the bench, then rewrapped her sandwich and dropped it on her lap. She took the papers, slowly unfolded them. As she focused on the top one, her eyes popped wide and she gasped. "Ronon! This – this is—" She looked up at him, her mouth rounded with shock.

Ronon let loose the excited grin he'd been holding back. "Happy anniversary, Teyla. Our house should be ready to move into within the next six or seven months."

Regardless of who was around to hear or observe, Teyla squealed softly and threw her arms around Ronon's neck. "Ronon!" she said. "Our own _house_! Our own _land_!" She laughed exultantly.

Hugging her to him with one arm, Ronon kissed the top of her head, simultaneously rescuing her sandwich from almost falling off her lap. "Yep."

Teyla pulled away slightly, so she could shuffle quickly through the rest of the papers. She paused when she saw the detailed drawing of the house's floor plan. "Just like my vision!" she said softly. "It's _all_ laid out just like my vision."

Ronon slipped his arm from her shoulders down to encircle her waist. "It's way out in the suburbs. I know you're not used to living in the city, and – well. . ." He trailed off. "So you like it?"

"Yes!" She clasped the papers to her heart, her cheeks warm and eyes sparkling. "This is _perfect_!" Tilting her head back so she could smile into his eyes, she leaned into his side. "Thank you, my love, for a lovely surprise."

Although they spent the rest of their mealtime discussing their soon-to-be-built house, Ronon couldn't coax Teyla into giving him any other concrete details about her vision. "If I told you, it would not happen," she told him. All she would admit was that the house was perfect, exactly what she'd seen in that last vision a year ago. Beyond that, she tranquilly refused to go.

After they'd finished eating, Ronon stood and turned as if to start back toward the hotel. Unexpectedly, Teyla resisted. "We should go to the beach," she said, "and – watch the sunset?" She looked up at him, a pleading look in her warm brown eyes, her expression open and adoring. Sliding her right arm around his waist, she gently moved her left hand in small circular caresses over the center of his chest.

Ronon could never resist when she did that. Remembering the role the beach had played in their growing relationship the previous year, he let her steer him in the opposite direction from the hotel.

Sunset on Mainland Atlantis's beach was always a sight to see. The red-gold light reflected off the water, making the details of the cliffs much clearer and casting a warm, gentle glow over the couples who strolled hand-in-hand along the sand. He had to admit, this leisurely sunset walk felt just right, especially since there were no assassins out to get them this time: no danger, no enemies, no destinies. Just him, Teyla, and the peaceful celebration of their first anniversary.

Eventually, they found a perch on the rocks, giving them a perfect view of the sunset and its effects on the water. Teyla curled up against Ronon, her head on his shoulder, as they watched the sun apparently submerge itself by gradual degrees into the ocean. Savoring the sweetness of his wife's form wrapped in his arms, his chin resting on her head, Ronon found himself happier than he'd ever expected to be, at this or any other time of his life. Whoever said life wasn't like a fairytale had never met him and Teyla. His lips curved up into a whimsical smile at the thought. Pressing soft kisses into her hair, he inhaled her familiar spicy scent, as the sun at last disappeared beyond the horizon. A few final rays thrust into the dimming sky above, but the best of the show was over.

Ronon and Teyla slowly made their way back to the Royale Lantia by way of the marketplace. Even though it was nighttime, only a few carts had closed until morning. Crowds still thronged the area, shopping by the lamps on the carts themselves and the glow cast by pretty strings of clear lights strung overhead from side to side of the open expanse. Although they weren't there to shop, Ronon spontaneously pulled his wife to a stop to buy her a hair clip that caught his eye. As she obligingly swept her hair behind her ears so he could nestle the pretty silver-and-green fastener into the thick strands, his hands began to shake. His gaze abruptly riveted itself on the nape of her slender, graceful neck, and he felt his breath go short. A wave of desire burned through him, as intense as it was sudden.

"Thank you, Ronon." Teyla reached up to touch the clip, the smile on her lips lighting her eyes, too. "I love you so much."

Ronon played with a loose lock of her hair, gently spinning the silky strands around his fingers in an attempt to distract himself from this aching, mistimed longing for her. But instead, an electric tingle coursed swiftly from his fingers throughout the rest of his body. "I love you, too," he replied, trying to control his voice. It came out hoarse anyway.

Teyla's eyes flashed up to his face. They took on an answering heat of their own as the corners of her lips turned up ever so slightly. Slipping one arm around his waist, she reached her other hand up to take his where it rested on her shoulder. As they resumed walking, she began to hum softly, a beautiful melody he didn't recognize: must be Athosian. It sounded slow, romantic, dreamy – a perfect accompaniment to the mood building inside her as well as him.

Only a few people glanced at them as they made their way through the plush lobby of the Royale, their steps slightly quicker now. Once in the elevator, he leaned back against the wall, holding Teyla close. She switched melodies, now humming something familiar, a Satedan song he'd taught her. Just listening to her made him smile as he pulled his wife even tighter against him. He lingeringly kissed the top of her head, her temple, her neck. Her humming faltered; picked up again, a little faster, and slightly breathless. Ronon grinned.

The elevator didn't pause until it reached the seventh floor. Key card already in hand, Ronon impulsively swept Teyla up into his arms, quickly but quietly walking down the hall to their room. As soon as he'd swiped the card in the lock, he bent his head to capture her lips with his, letting the fire within him explode to consume them both. . .

The door swung shut behind them.

**-Atlantis-**

Something held her down, rooting her to the spot. She couldn't breathe. Panic welled in her chest, trying to burst its way out in a scream. She wildly thrashed, trying to fight her way free.

"Hold still, sweetheart, shh, just hold still!" Strong hands gently but inexorably grasped her shoulders at the same time a voice murmured soothingly in her ear.

Teyla snapped awake. Terrified and gasping, she stared wide-eyed into her husband's worried eyes as he leaned over her. "Ronon?" she said, confused: Hadn't she just been somewhere else?

"It's okay," he said, "it's okay, just relax and let me unwind you." Carefully he tugged at the bedclothes, tightly tangled around her almost like restraints. She focused on controlling her ragged breathing as she lay limply, allowing him to free her. _That's it,_ she thought, _somehow in my sleep I must have gotten the sheets wrapped around me, and that's why I dreamed someone was trying to hold me down_

"Watch your eyes, love."

It took an effort to get her lids to cooperate and close over her eyes. She squeezed them shut even more tightly when brightness suddenly pressed against them. Rolling away from the light, she grabbed for the glass of water she always kept on the nightstand, nearly knocking it over in her haste. Draining it in six gulps, she sighed and dropped loosely back against her pillow. She cautiously opened her eyes again.

Ronon stared worriedly down at her, his eyebrows raised. Taking the glass from her, he stretched across her to set it back on the nightstand. Then, using the same hand to brush away some strands of hair sticking to her moist face, he asked, "You okay?"

"Yes. I am fine." Teyla reached shaking fingers up to brush gently along his unmarked forehead, feeling profoundly relieved not to find a wound there. It had seemed so vivid and real in her nightmare. . . "It was just a bad dream." She worked her fingers into his thick hair, using its springy cleanliness to banish the lingering image of his bloodsoaked dreadlocks. "Only a nightmare," she murmured, unsure if she was trying to convince herself, or him.

Or, just maybe, she was trying to deny the fact that – impossible as it may seem – she had just had another vision. She shoved the thought away angrily. She'd had her last vision a year ago, one that showed her future with Ronon and three children, all of them safe and happy on Sateda.

_Just a nightmare, _she insisted to herself. But – a chill knifed through her and made her shiver – could a mere a nightmare be so frighteningly similar to the visions she used to have when Ronon was in immediate danger?

Continuing to stroke the back of his hand against her cheek, he narrowed his green eyes at her. "Mm," he said. The sound seemed distinctly disapproving.

"What?" she asked warily.

"You used to react like this when you had visions. Didn't you try to pass some of them off as nightmares then, too?"

She could feel the panic trying to make a comeback. Partly to disguise it, partly to provide a distraction for her husband as well as herself, Teyla reached for the charm on the soulmate necklace Ronon still always wore, which had been swinging very near her face. Keeping her eyes focused on it, she slid it absently back and forth along its chain. "I think I know the difference between a nightmare and a vision, Ronon. My last vision came a year ago. We are living our happily ever after as proof." But even as she spoke, guilt niggled at her – was she really certain? Or was she just in denial?

Ronon picked up the charm of her own necklace from where it rested in the hollow at the base of her throat, fingered it thoughtfully. Teyla watched him surreptitiously from under her lashes. A tiny crease began to form between the bold wings of his eyebrows. Very suddenly deciding she didn't want to hear the conclusions he was drawing, she hurriedly said, "The Wraith are _gone_, Ronon. We have no more need of visions."

He visibly mulled over her words, the crease remaining very much in place. Softly and persuasively she added, "It was only a bad dream, love. Really." Letting his charm dangle free again, she touched the tips of her fingers just below his left collarbone. "Remember our jungle paradise?" she murmured. She slowly traced a line to the corresponding point on the other side. "When you started to kiss me – and realized you had lost your shirt?" Using the outer edge of her hand now, she brushed back the other way. "How embarrassed you were." She smoothed her cupped hand lower across his chest, the fine hairs tickling her palm as it slipped lower along the center line of his body.

Ronon leaned down, his dreadlocks falling loosely to either side and making a curtained space for their two faces. "Teyla." He breathed her name softly, his lips stirring her hair by her ear. "Teyla, my sweetest, dearest, most beautiful wife – are you _trying_ to get me off the subject by seducing me?"

Teyla went absolutely still for two rapid heartbeats, while amusement and chagrin sent a different kind of flush through her. _This soulmate business can be disconcerting!_ she thought ruefully. Twitching her hips sideways and bending her right leg, she caressed the side of his hip with the inside of her knee. "Why, yes, husband, I am," she replied throatily. "Is it working?"

Lips locking onto hers in a wordless reply, his strong arms wrapped around her, drawing her with him as he slowly rolled onto his back. _I will take that as a "Yes,"_ drifted briefly though Teyla's mind, just before consciousness of everything but the two of them faded away.

_-To Be Continued-_

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**TheWelcomeStranger**: I hope this part is worth coming, back, too! I couldn't help giving Illydia a happy ending, she was just so sweet to me (am I allowed to say that, since she's my character?), I wanted her to have a happy ending. And Carson is one of my favorite characters, I could easily see him falling for someone like Illydia. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much for the review!

**bailey1ak**: Thanks! Illydia, to me, has always been a sweet person, undeserving of being a Wraith. And Carson is so sweet, too, I could easily see them together. I loved writing the packing scene, it was such fun. And it was a relief to write after the prologue – this one, too! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Bunnylass**: Thank you! I couldn't resist giving Illydia a happy ending, after I came up with her character I just felt like a mama who wants her daughter to be happy and to find her perfect man. LOL She will be in this story too, quite a bit, as well as the others. Thank you so much for the review, I hope you enjoy this chapter! (Sorry it took me so long to get it up – I wanted it to be perfect!)

**Dia**: It always is, is it? LOL I'm glad you thought Illydia and Carson were cute, I couldn't resist. They're both sweet people, and they both love helping others. They'll be in this fic quite a bit. I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's okay you took a long time because I did too! Thank you so much for the review! -hugs-


	4. Old Friends, New Enemies

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 4/?

**Important Author's Note**: _Again – I apologize for the reeeeally long wait between chapters! My phone is _finally_ fixed, so now I can update much faster. Thank you all so much for the kind words, well wishes, and, of course, the reviews! You all are so awesome. Thank you all so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter!_

**-Chapter 3-**

_Old Friends, New Enemies_

Ronon woke to the sound of water running full blast in the next room. Sighing, he rolled over to bury his face in Teyla's pillow. He _could_ snatch a few more minutes' sleep while his wife showered – after all, it had been an interesting night in more ways than one – but he felt too awake now. Too – jittery. Despite Teyla's very effective methods of distraction, he still vividly remembered her sudden awakening the night before. He wouldn't be surprised if he had bruises. She'd already been good at fighting before they met; now, after training with him – well, she was _deadly_. Or at least perfectly capable of inflicting damage, even though she hadn't meant to.

He shifted onto one side to stare unseeingly at the bathroom door. Over time, almost without realizing it, he'd started to forget he and Teyla had ever possessed extraordinary powers. The worst injury either of them had suffered since their extermination of the Wraith had been a paper cut. When he'd tried to heal Teyla's bleeding finger, more out of curiosity than anything, nothing had come of it. Since his powers had abandoned him, he'd figured hers had, too. And while they'd both had nightmares since fulfilling their destinies, never before had Teyla reacted _that_ way to one. The only times she'd reacted similarly was _before_, when she did have visions. . .

Was her Sight back?

Curious, Ronon examined his hands. He'd healed Teyla before. If her visions were coming back, it was entirely possible his healing powers would come back, too. But if their powers were returning, there _had_ to be a reason. Such gifts of the Ancestors' wouldn't go away for a while, then come back at some random time. Even though he'd forgotten what they'd been able to do for a while, he couldn't forget the purpose underlying such abilities: Teyla's Sight to save his life when immediate danger threatened; his own gift of healing to save her so she could fulfill their destiny. They'd balanced each other out before. But what if only one of them was regaining their power?

He didn't like that thought. Not at all.

The bathroom door opened. Ronon lifted his head quickly, taking a full breathless moment to appreciate the vision his wife presented. A silky green bathrobe (one he absolutely knew he'd never seen before) clung to her every curve. As insubstantial tendrils of steam wreathed past her into the cooler air of the bedroom, her freshly-washed skin shone in the early morning sun that also gleamed off her wet hair. He abruptly forgot all about destinies. And all manner of powers other than one in particular. . .

Teyla seemed to read his reaction on his face, because a small, provocative smile curled her lips. Sitting up very fast, he moaned deep in his throat.

A soft chuckle preceded the kiss she blew him. "Time to get up, love," she said cheerfully. "We're supposed to meet John, Elizabeth, Rodney, Illydia, and Carson for breakfast in less than an hour." She carefully circumvented the bed, gracefully seating herself at the dressing table. Shaking out her hair, she began to dry it, while continuing to watch him in the mirror. "There _might_ be some hot water left," she laughed over the sound of the drier.

Ronon ran his hands down his face. "Don't need it," he mumbled. "Cold, need cold."

His wife's ringing laughter chased him into the bathroom.

When he emerged ten minutes later, he found Teyla standing in front of the closet, still wearing that infuriating, thoroughly enticing robe. She turned slightly and tossed him a shirt. "Here, love," she said. "Wear that."

He shrugged the shirt on over his pants. Sitting down on the bed, he pulled on his shoes as he watched her riffle through her clothes. "You'll look good no matter what you wear," he told her.

Teyla turned to smile at him. "Ronon, I thank you for the compliment. But I think you _might_ be a little biased."

Ronon cocked his head to the side, a happy grin on his face. "You think?"

Finally she pulled out a pair of loose black pants and a sea green tunic. "Yes," she said certainly. "I can wear the hair clip you got me last night with this." Slipping off the robe, she suddenly giggled and tossed it unexpectedly at his head. By the time he'd freed himself from its Teyla-scented folds, she'd dressed. Sitting down in front of the mirror again, she brushed out her hair and reached for the clip.

Jumping to his feet, Ronon went to stand behind her so he could hold it back. Smiling at his reflection, Teyla settled the clip into her hair in an echo of the night before. Expression serious, she studied herself in the mirror. "What do you think?" she asked softly.

Ronon bent and kissed the top of her head. Slowly sliding his hands down her arms, feeling the responsive shiver that went through her, he gently twined his fingers with her smaller ones. "You have to ask?" he murmured into her hair, inhaling its fragrance deeply, even as he reluctantly gave her a hand up from the small padded bench.

"Thank you." Tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, she picked up her handbag and smiled contentedly. "Let's go."

**-Atlantis: Market Street-**

In the end, Ronon was very glad Teyla had talked him into breakfast in the marketplace. Spending time with their old friends again brought back all sorts of memories – most good, though a few bad did touch his mind. But he refused to allow them to latch on to his newfound suspicions and take root.

Thankfully, John had been right when he promised Teyla and Ronon wouldn't be recognized. Both were able to relax and enjoy the time with their friends.

Dr. Rodney McKay seemed to be in his element. Ronon had a grudging respect for the scientist – how could he not? No matter how much he flaunted and touted his genius, he really _was_ extraordinarily intelligent. He'd certainly been instrumental in helping destroy the Wraith – and save Ronon's life, for that matter. Dex was happy to lean back in his chair and listen to the scientist bicker good-naturedly with Illydia's husband, Dr. Carson Beckett. From what he could tell, they were "discussing" the merits of science versus medicine. It was a rather entertaining, if unintelligible, conversation.

All the while keeping one eye and ear tuned to the doctors' discussion (disagreement), Ronon focused the other half of his attention on Sheppard. The two men reminisced as Teyla, Elizabeth, and Illydia happily immersed themselves in "girl talk." Ronon felt a little guilty for monopolizing her attention for so long. . . Well, maybe not so much.

A sharp poke from John brought Ronon back to the present. "Where were you?"

"I've – just got some stuff on my mind." Though he was _trying_ to convince himself that Teyla was right and her "vision" really _was_ a nightmare, he couldn't shake the feeling it was more. The hair on the back of his neck kept wanting to prickle, like they were being watched by unseen eyes. Like danger was hovering right around the corner, and he couldn't quite figure out _which_ corner. _This is Atlantis,_ he told himself over and over again. _It's the safest planet in the galaxy. Besides, the Wraith are gone. There's no more danger. Anywhere._

"Bad stuff?" For the first time since they'd all sat down, John looked utterly serious. He automatically lowered his voice.

Ronon instinctively matched his tone. "I don't know. I just – have a bad feeling." Semiconsciously, he scanned the immediate area for any signs of danger. Nothing. Everything looked like it should on a normal Wednesday morning in Atlantis's marketplace. He dropped his voice even more, barely moving his lips now. "I can't explain it. Except – I think Teyla had another vision last night. She told me it was just a nightmare, but she reacted _differently_. _Not_ how she normally reacts to nightmares, no matter how bad."

Sheppard's eyes popped wide. "But the Wraith are gone," he said, voice low so the women wouldn't hear. "The only one left is Illydia, and she was never _really_ a Wraith."

"I know, I know. And I know this is Atlantis, and we're safe here and all that. But I can't shake the feeling." Ronon rubbed the back of his neck, trying to get rid of the serious case of the creeps haunting him. He could almost feel the cold, inhuman stares drilling into his back. He slid a glance in Teyla's direction. If she felt the same way, she was hiding it awfully well.

John's gaze followed Ronon's. "I'll be right back." He excused himself, wending his way among the tables on the balcony to the door of the restaurant. Only a few moments later he reappeared and seated himself at the table again. "I just alerted the military and police," he murmured. "They're tightening up the patrols a bit. I admit things have been a bit lax since the Wraith were vanquished. But, like you said – it never hurts to be safe."

"Maybe I'm overreacting," Ronon said. "I just don't want—" He stopped. A superstitious feeling gripped him, that if he voiced his fear, he might make it come true.

"If there _is_ anything wrong around here, we'll find it," John promised. "I don't want to alarm anyone by leaving early – but I promise to join the patrols as soon as we finish breakfast."

Ronon nodded. "Thanks, Sheppard."

The other man lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug, though concern lingered in his eyes. "No problem, brother."

McKay and Beckett called a reluctant truce, and conversation turned to broader subjects. Ronon, who had been leaning over to talk to Sheppard, sat up straight in his chair again so he could put his arm around Teyla's shoulders. Her smile dazzled his eyes before she turned to ask Rodney how his work was progressing. He was content to sit back, hang on to Teyla, and listen to the different strains of conversation flowing around him. Even with his suspicions, he didn't suspect how much he'd need to hang on to that good memory later.

Carson excused himself first. While still dividing his time between the Water City's infirmary and the hospital on the mainland, he was also working toward opening his own private practice on the mainland. He needed to get back to his patients. After kissing his wife and waving amiably at the others, he took off through the chaos of Market Street.

Less than twenty minutes later, Rodney left. He had quite a few "important" simulations running in his lab, and he needed to get back to them. Ronon watched their group's numbers dwindle, fighting the urge to wrap his arms protectively around Teyla, to snatch her up and race with her back to the hotel. However illogically, he felt the bigger the group, the safer they'd be. Now that they were dispersing. . .

Elizabeth glanced at her watch. "Oh!" she said. "I need to get back to the university. My class starts in twenty minutes." She jumped to her feet, apologizing profusely. Illydia offered her own soft-spoken apologies and left with Weir.

Teyla shifted her chair closer to Ronon's, happily curling into his side as they continued to talk to John. The latter stayed the minimum time courtesy allowed, then left himself. Ronon knew he was off to help the patrols.

"It was so nice to have everyone together again for a while." Teyla rested her head against his shoulder and sighed contentedly. For a moment they sat quietly, enjoying each other's company. Then Teyla sat up, her eyes focused on the marketplace. "Come on," she said. Taking his hand, she drew him to his feet. "We kind of rushed through the market last night," she said, an echo of her earlier giggle in her voice. "We should take our time today."

Ronon sighed tensely but acquiesced. Keeping his arm tight around Teyla's shoulders, he looked around for any signs of danger. If only he could shake his bad feeling. . .

**-Atlantis: Market Street-**

. . .If only she could shake her bad feeling. As before, Teyla hadn't seen the _exact_ location of her vision, but she knew her visions always came true within a day. Perhaps strolling through the marketplace wasn't the smartest idea, but she figured the more populated the area, the less likely her vision (if that was what it was, Teyla still wasn't entirely convinced herself) was to come true.

Ronon's arm, tightly protective around her shoulders, told her he hadn't bought her nightmare story. Though she'd managed to distract him temporarily (her lips curled into a smile at the memory), it hadn't lasted. Maybe they should go back to their hotel. But they couldn't stay holed up in there forever.

Besides, wasn't Atlantis supposed to be the safest planet in the galaxy? The Wraith were gone, and only petty crimes like shoplifting occurred on Atlantis. Even murders numbered few and far between.

Teyla immersed herself in the sights and sounds of the marketplace. When Ronon had first introduced her to the place, she'd felt terribly overwhelmed. But she'd had a year to adjust to life in the city living on Sateda with her husband, and now the marketplace was a treat rather than a cause for her nerves to frazzle.

In the distance, she heard the toll of a bell. The sound touched a familiar chord in her mind, already subconsciously alert for the sound. She counted the mournful peals – three. Right after the last faded, she heard a familiar voice shout a swearword over the sounds of the crowd. Before that moment, she'd heard that same voice only once: in her vision. Now, there was no doubt in her mind. It _had_ been a vision.

_Oh no._ There was only time enough left for one thing. . .

Pulling Ronon to a stop, praying to the Ancestors all the while, she wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled him down into a desperate kiss. Confused, he looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"I love you, Ronon," she said fervently against his lips. Closing her eyes, she pressed herself against his chest as her vision's explosion roared in her ears.

_-To Be Continued-_

**TheWelcomeStranger**: Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. Yes! I do remember _The Torment of Tantalus_, it's one of my favorite episodes – made even better when _Atlantis_ started, and I got to see Paul McGillion again, this time with a Scottish accent! I could hear traces of it when he was playing young Ernest Littlefeld, and it made me excited. I was hoping they'd bring him back to SG-1 – but even better, they brought him to Atlantis! Thank you so much for the review – I hope you enjoy the new chapter! So sorry it took me so long to post the review replies!

**SpaceMonkey0941**: I thought so – I'm glad you agree! LOL I think that is one of _the most_ fun scenes I've ever written. Well – the last part of it, anyway. LOL I'm so sorry it took me so long to update, and put up the review replies – hurricanes are no fun, I've found! O.O So much for living in an area where we don't get them. Hehe. I hope you enjoy the new chapter, and thank you so much for the review!

**Bunnylass**: Wow, thanks! I'd been looking forward to writing the scene where he showed her the plan of the house for a very long time – well, since I decided to write the sequel to _Soul Mates_, anyway. I'm glad you liked the part where she seduced him to distract him, it was fun to write. But her nightmare/vision – that wasn't so much fun to write. I'm sorry it's taken me so long with the review replies and a new chapter – but I finally have Internet again, so I promise to do better! Thank you so much for the review – I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

**TeylaFan**: Hmm – we'll see if I do or not. LOL I'm glad you thought it was funny that Ronon and Teyla are famous – I couldn't resist popping that in. After all – technically, they _are_ the heroes of the universe! Saving them from the Wraith and all. LOL And watch very, very closely – within the next few chapters, there are little things here and there that might give you a few clues as to what's going on with the prologue and such. I'm glad you liked it when he gave her the plans for the house – I adored writing that scene. And you're right – that's another one of those clues I mentioned a little bit ago. -wink- I hope you enjoy the new chapters – and I'm so sorry it's taken me so long! -hugs-


	5. Misery Hath None Compared

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 5/?

**Important Author's Note**: _Again – I apologize for the reeeeally long wait between chapters! My phone is _finally_ fixed, so now I can update much faster. Thank you all so much for the kind words, well wishes, and, of course, the reviews! You all are so awesome. I updated the previous chapter with the review replies – I'm so sorry it took so long! But thank you all so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this new chapter!_

**-Chapter 4-**

_Misery Hath None Compared_

Mainland Atlantis's hospital teemed with activity. The staff had been caught totally off-guard when the casualties began pouring in; Atlantis was _supposed_ to be peaceful. The hospital was meant to be used to patch up the broken legs of children who fell off their bicycles, not the victims of bombings in the marketplace.

The staff rushed Ronon through triage with impersonal efficiency. Most of his injuries were superficial, various shallow cuts on his face and arms, and bruises over the rest of his body. A piece of shrapnel had imbedded itself in his shoulder, but the deadly piece that would have hit him had instead lodged itself in Teyla. It had killed her instantly. The smaller piece that had caused his injury had flown over her head, into his shoulder.

As Ronon waited for the pecking order of triage to reach him, he stared at his shaking, blood covered hands and clung desperately to the numb feeling in his chest. Despite Sheppard's protests, he'd tried to heal Teyla. How _hard_ he'd tried. He remembered how it'd felt before: a buzz at the back of his mind, a rush of power through his body into his hands. But apparently that power didn't work when Teyla was already dead. He couldn't bring her back to life, he could only heal her injuries when she was still alive.

Across the busy room, a familiar figure appeared. For a moment she looked around with wild fright, then she spotted him. Relieved, she ran over. "Ronon," she said, kneeling before him.

"Illydia." He could barely speak for hoarseness. She seemed to be far away, lost in the unreal haze that blanketed the world around him.

"They interrupted the class – said there was a bombing in the marketplace. . ." The beautiful woman's green eyes darkened. "Classes were canceled until they can figure out what happened – just in case." Reaching out, she grasped the hand on Ronon's uninjured side. "Thank the Ancestors you're okay – well, mostly okay." She looked around, forehead wrinkled in worry. "Where – where's Teyla?"

Fresh grief welled up, voiding his earlier numbness. "She's gone," he said simply. The words were as dead as his wife.

Illydia's expression filled with horror. "_What_?" she choked out.

Very carefully, Ronon removed his hand from the woman's grasp. Lifting his gaze, he stared unseeingly across the room. "She knew," he said. Perhaps he'd just realized it himself – her final declaration of love for him, then the way she hugged herself so tightly to his chest – she had to have known what was going to happen. It had been the ultimate way to change her vision – literally giving her own life to save his. If only he'd known. The vision had shown his death. That was what was _supposed_ to have happened.

Why had she changed it?

Illydia's sweet face flooded with tears. "Oh, my friend," she said. She seemed at a loss for words, which was just as well. No words could make things better, bring back those who had been lost in the marketplace.

No words could bring Teyla back.

Suddenly Illydia touched a gentle hand to his closed fist. "Ronon, loosen your fist. It has to be hurting your shoulder."

Blinking blankly, Ronon looked down. He hadn't realized, but his right hand _was_ clenched into a fist. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to relax his hand, opening his long fingers. Silver glinted in the overhead lights: Teyla's necklace. He vaguely remembered Sheppard pressing the pendant, dangling from the broken chain, into his hand. Then the emergency team covering her with a sheet to mark her as dead before they moved on to those still living.

"It hurts," he said. He wasn't talking to anyone in particular.

Illydia's pained face bowed, hiding behind her long hair. "The doctor should be here soon," she said softly.

Ronon wasn't talking about his shoulder. His physical pains didn't exist, they were inconsequential compared to his inner agony. He didn't bother to say that to Illydia – if she wanted to believe it was merely his shoulder, he'd let her. But for himself, the depths of the coming pain remained to be plumbed. He knew it _really_ hadn't sunk in yet, that he would wake in the morning expecting Teyla still to be there.

Even though he didn't _want_ to wake – at any time – to a world without Teyla.

Ronon never remembered actually being treated for his injuries. When next he became aware of the world around him, Illydia was helping him into the lobby of the Royale Lantia. He experimentally twitched his shoulder, cringing at the feel of the medical patch there. His arm was in a sling. So few injuries, he distantly reflected, compared to others. So little, compared to the price Teyla had paid.

Almost unaware of what he was doing, Ronon shied away from the door to room 761 when Illydia got him there. "No, no," he said, almost in panic. "I can't. . ." Teyla was no longer there; would never be there again. He couldn't go in. Not without _her_.

Worried, Illydia helped him back downstairs. Seating him in the lobby, she went to the front desk and quietly explained the situation. From the bits and pieces of the conversation Ronon tuned in for, he understood they were putting him in another room, this one on the third floor. They would arrange to have the luggage moved soon.

As if in a trance (if he shut down, he didn't have to deal with what was going on), Ronon allowed Illydia to take him to the new room. Gently, she guided him to the bed and urged him to sit. Once down, he couldn't summon energy or will enough to shrug off the kind woman's hand. Instead he stared blankly at the walls, which had no right to look so cheerful when his world was so bleak.

Seeming to sense how he felt, Illydia silently withdrew to sit on a chair across the room, where she watched him warily. He dimly wondered if she thought he might try something – something that Teyla wouldn't approve of – something like suicide. He briefly considered the idea, but dismissed it immediately. It was not his way. Besides, he deserved to suffer for a while. He hadn't been good enough for Teyla. He didn't deserve a quick death.

Eventually, Illydia rose so she could open the door for the room attendant who brought Ronon's luggage. Murmuring a thanks, she closed the door behind him. Moments later she crouched in front of him, her expression concerned. "Ronon?" she asked softly.

Ronon didn't care enough to force his eyes to refocus. He just nodded slightly to let her know he'd heard her.

"Would you like me to unpack your things? Or – or will you return to Sateda tomorrow?" She bit her lower lip, as if afraid she'd said the wrong thing.

The memory of the house being erected at that very moment on his homeworld made him cringe. How could he return? Everywhere he went, he would be reminded of Teyla. But at the same time, how could he stay on Atlantis, which reminded him of her just as much, if not more?

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I guess you want to be alone." She started to stand.

"No," he whispered. The thought of seeing Teyla's things as he tried to unpack his own made him break out in a cold sweat. "Please – I would appreciate it if you would. . ."

Ronon didn't watch as Illydia quietly unpacked the suitcase. When she was finished, she tucked the valise into the back of the closet and quietly closed the door. "Is there anything else I can do?" she asked softly.

He bit his lip against the words he wanted to say. _Can you bring Teyla back? No? Well then, I guess you've nothing else to do. Go away and leave me alone to die._ It was too cruel, considering all the nice things she'd just done for him. "No. Thank you, Illydia." He couldn't even look at her. It felt like too much effort to lift his head.

Illydia crouched before him again. "Can I – oh, that sounds so awful. But – can I trust you, to leave you alone to – to grieve? I mean – you won't try to. . ." She trailed off, horror in her eyes.

Ronon blinked sluggishly at her, wondering if he looked that far gone. "Teyla wouldn't want it." His throat burned painfully when he said her name. "I-I can't. I don't deserve to die that quickly. Please – just leave." He didn't want anyone to see him like he was. Illydia had already seen too much.

She looked torn, but Illydia finally left after scratching the information he might need to reach her and her husband on a pad of paper by the holoscreen on the desk in the corner.

Lying back on the bed, Ronon stared blankly at the ceiling. Carefully, deliberately, he locked away all his emotions deep inside him. As long as he was on Atlantis, he wouldn't lose it. It would somehow dishonor Teyla's memory. But once he got back to Sateda. . .

The night was long. Ronon never slept, despite his heavy exhaustion. One question ceaselessly battered his mind, over and over again. There were any number of meanings to it, but they all essentially meant the same.

_Why?_

_-To Be Continued-_

**Bunnylass**: I promise, I'm fine – just a bit stir-crazy! Going almost 2 weeks without phone and Internet had me climbing the walls. But the phone guy finally came by – and I'm back! Thank you for your kind words. And – wow! Thank you _so, so_ much! The last chapter was very hard to write, knowing what was coming next, and where I was going to leave it – so I'm glad you thought it was good! Again, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long – but I hope this chapter was worth the wait! Thank you so much for the review!

**bailey1ak**: Wow, thank you! It was really hard to write the chapter, especially those last three paragraphs – so I'm very glad you think they were good and powerful. I wanted it to be _perfect_, to say exactly what I wanted when I posted it, so I hope that came across, too. I'm sorry it's taken me so long with this chapter and the review replies – but my Internet is back, so I'll do better from here on out, I promise! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait!


	6. Endeavors

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 6/?

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A huge **Special Thanks** goes out to Dia.Dahling for helping me with this chapter. I couldn't have gotten this done without you! -huggles-

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-Chapter 5-

_Endeavors_

Sunrise finally came, though Ronon had spent the entire night hoping it wouldn't. His entire body was stiff and sore, but that barely qualified as a reason why he was finding it hard to get up. There didn't seem to be a point.

As he laid there, every muscle dead and numb, he wished he could cease to exist. It wasn't that he was contemplating suicide or self-destruction; just a deep loathing for living. If all life entailed was pain, struggles, and work that eventually ended in misery, what made it worth living?

The rising sun stung his eyes, but he didn't shield them. He couldn't move. A moan escaped his lips. Not for the pain that screamed from the light; no, that pain felt good. The moan came from within the bottomless grave of what was once a perfect life. And now that life was dead. Why couldn't he be dead along with it?

Death. It followed him like a dark cloud. Life for him wasn't a matter of whether or not he would be buffeted by storms, but merely what they would be. But this time, the storm had taken his one true love; his other half; his only hope at happiness. How could life be so _cruel_?

Cruel. The word spoke to him in a deep way. It was the only definition he could think of for what had been done to him. There was no other word that encompassed the horrid, yet simple way that life had defiled him. He'd worked so hard for a good life; to give Teyla a good life. Why had the results, the purpose, of his labor been taken away? There seemed to be no explanation.

But there was. In the time immediately following the explosion, Ronon hadn't been able to see anything past his grief, his loss. But now, in this twistedly blessed numbness, he could actually think halfway rationally. Someone – or something – had caused that explosion in the marketplace. It didn't matter if it was a criminal having nothing to do with them – if he and Teyla had happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time – or if it were someone with a personal vendetta. Finding the person (or persons) responsible seemed to be the only course of action left for him. It would give him a reason to keep on living. For a while, at least.

His arm twitched, whether on its own or because of his new reason to live. It was the first movement he'd had since— He couldn't remember when Illydia had guided him here. The sun had moved past his window, but his eyes still stung. Everything stung.

He began thinking again. Was this really the only reason he had to live? His mind probed itself, deeply surveying every corner. _Yes. _Life had taken everything from him until his only purpose now was discovering why. _Who_. And making them _pay_.

His muscles groaned as he made a fist. What did he look like? What did the face of his delight's murderer resemble? What would he do when he found the snake?

John would want to help, but he couldn't let him. He was a good help, but could possibly slow him down. Not only did he need to do this on his own, but John would never let him kill the murderer. Not the way he wanted to, at least.

He thought of cruel images that would make even him cringe under any other circumstance. How many limbs should he remove before killing him? How long should he prolong the coward's end? Whatever he decided, this man was _going to pay._

His nerves felt as if they were on fire. The bed beneath him was slowly absorbing sweat. Every ounce of pain, agony, misery, and desolation that had filled him earlier was now hate. Abhorrence. He felt a loathing revulsion, so deep that his stomach churned and he nearly vomited. He wanted answers. He wanted revenge. He wanted _death_. And he wasn't going to stop until all three were achieved.

**-Atlantis-**

By the time Illydia and John arrived, Ronon had managed to clean up, to regain some semblance of sanity and calm. Everything still hurt – physically, mentally, and emotionally – but at least he had a few priorities straight now.

"Where – do you want to have – _it_?" Sheppard asked after the pleasantries were over. Pleasantries seemed so mundane now, Ronon mused.

Ronon didn't want to think about _it_ – the funeral – or the days to come before and after. "Atlantis. Teyla – she wasn't close to the Athosians any more, and Sateda – it – she – I just don't want to have it there." He couldn't explain the feeling. Even though he and Teyla lived on Sateda, Atlantis was _their_ special place, where they went to get away from everything for a while. It would be right to have her funeral on Atlantis, rather than Athos or Sateda.

Illydia sat down next to him. Carefully wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she whispered, "We'll be here for you, Ronon. Through whatever is next to come – we'll be here. All of us."

He had to close his eyes for a moment. Ronon had promised himself he wouldn't lose it until he got back to Sateda, and he would hold to that promise. But his friends were making it _very hard_ for him. "Thank you. Both of you."

John sat down in the chair across from the bed. Planting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together, he leaned forward to stare intensely at Ronon. "Can you remember anything that happened before – before the explosion? Anything that could help the Atlantian police in their investigation?"

Ronon stiffened reflexively. He'd thought of nothing else all night. "No. Except that Teyla knew it was coming. She – she would have been the one to ask." _Whoever was responsible will pay, I'll tell you that much, though._

Sheppard leaned back in his chair, running his hand through his hair. Sighing tiredly, he leaned his head back against the wall, and shook it slowly back and forth. "The Atlantian police, and the military, have been jointly working on this all night. I wish I didn't have to ask, Ronon. I wish I had more answers to give you instead."

"I know." Ronon looked down at his hands, clasped tightly on his lap. "When you do, though. . ." He left the sentence dangling deliberately.

Illydia's eyes went wide as John's narrowed. "Don't do anything stupid, Ronon," the latter said sternly.

"Please don't," Illydia whispered. "Teyla—"

"She's _why_ I want to know. I have to do this. Don't try to stop me. You can't." Ronon had made his mind up. Nothing and no one would change it.

Illydia looked away, her teeth worrying her lower lip. "We don't have all the facts," she whispered. "Something – isn't right."

"You bet there's something that's not right!" Sheppard started.

"Stop." Ronon looked at Illydia. "What?"

She refused to look at him, hiding behind the screen of her long hair. "I don't know," she whispered. "But you and Teyla were not the only ones gifted. . . I have a sense. Something – something isn't right. I can't pinpoint." Illydia looked up suddenly, fire in her green eyes. "I'll help you, Ronon," she said boldly. "Whatever you plan to do, I'll help you. I promise not to try to stop you."

"Hey!" John protested. "Have you both lost your minds? I want to catch the guy responsible too, but I don't want your lives, or anyone else's, in danger!"

"Lives have already been lost," Ronon snapped. "Teyla's, and – and others," he said, stumbling. It was hard to get past the pain in his throat, in his heart, when he said her name. Everything was still too fresh, too raw.

Illydia touched his arm, her eyes soft once more. "Carson and I will make the arrangements – for the funeral," she said.

Ronon nodded once, curtly. "Thank you. I'll contact her people – the Athosians – and our friends on Sateda."

John ran his hands through his hair again, obviously giving up on the "crazy people" for now. "I'll work with the Ancients," he said. "Make the arrangements to meet them at the Ring, then fly them over here."

"Thank you." Ronon looked around, feeling disoriented. There was something else to do, he knew, but it had to wait till later. There were other more important things to take care of at the moment. "Would you mind flying me to the Water City? I need to go now. I'll be back by nightfall." No way was he staying on Sateda. Not in a house that had so many memories. Neither would he be going past the house being built – even though Teyla had never set foot inside, there were too many memories involved there, too.

"You're very welcome, Ronon," Illydia said. "We want to do this for you. For her. It – it doesn't seem like enough."

"It is." It was too much. What had he ever done to deserve such wonderful friends? Certainly something better than he'd done to deserve Teyla, because _she'd_ been taken from him. She was gone now – so he hadn't deserved her. He'd have to work even harder to make sure his friends didn't fall to the same fate as his wife.

Somehow, someway, someday, he'd make up for failing Teyla.

_-To Be Continued-_

**Bunnylass**: I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you sad! Hmm – well, I'm afraid I can't answer that question right now, but there are clues, scattered around everywhere. . . A particularly large one in the next chapter. LOL Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**bailey1ak**: Thank you! I'm sorry it was so sad, but this one will be building into a different phase of grief – though I'm not sure if it will be better. Illydia is going to play a very large part of this story, and she'll be helping Ronon quite a bit. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Dia**: Hi, girl! -tacklehugs- Long time no see! Thank you so very much for your help on this chapter. I'm glad you've been enjoying all the elements of this story so far, and I promise the identity of the enemies will be revealed – in time. Be patient! LOL Thank you so much for the review(s!), and I hope you enjoy this chapter! -hugs-

**SpaceMonkey0941**: SpaceMonkey! -tacklehugs- I've missed you! I hope you're doing well. As for the answer to your question – hmm, maybe. -wink- I can guarantee you there _will_ be some Dark!Ronon in this fic, especially in the coming chapters. As for the answers to all your other questions – there are clues, scattered out through the story, and a particularly big one in the next! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! -hugs-

**CanadianHalliwell**: Yes – I'm sorry! But I promise that I will scatter out clues, through the rest of the story, to what is really going on, so you don't have to wait till the very, very end to see! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**TheWelcomeStranger**: I'm so sorry! I honestly didn't mean to make you so sad. I really, really hope this chapter is better, that it doesn't make you so sad again. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much for the review!


	7. Grieving

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 7/?

**-Chapter 6-**

_Grieving_

Revenge. The yearning for it nudged at Ronon constantly, urging him to take action, to find the person who had taken Teyla from him and have his retribution. But there were other things to be done first, little as he liked the necessity of them.

The Athosians took the news – very badly. After what seemed much, much too long a time Ronon finally escaped, leaving behind the mournful wails and songs of his dead wife's grieving people. He couldn't take it; not when part of him wanted to join in, to throw everything else away for a while, and yield to grieving himself. But he couldn't, not yet. Not until he'd thrown the body of his wife's killer at the foot of her grave.

After leaving Athos for Sateda, he walked unseeingly through the spacious streets of the city. Knowing exactly where he was going, he looked neither left nor right; he had, in fact, been there a hundred times before. That fact made it harder for him to stay detached from the world; to live minute to minute and ignore everything around him; to stay focused on what _had_ to be done.

Right now, that meant telling Solen Sincha and his wife of Teyla's death. Solen had been Ronon's best friend since they were young boys, growing up together. They were blood brothers, bonded together by true friendship, not just the pact they'd made while still children. They'd shared joyous times, such as being in each other's weddings; and darker times, killing many enemies as they served together in Sateda's army. Teyla and Solen had teased back and forth like brother and sister, keeping up a rapid fire pace that Ronon barely followed. He enjoyed listening to them banter, finding it a source of entertainment on many a night. Selena, Solen's wife, a placid woman, usually joined him in leaning back and enjoying her husband and Ronon's wife trade comebacks.

Never again. . .

A typically jolly fellow, Solen grinned widely when he found Ronon on his doorstep. "Selena, it's Ronon!" he called back over his shoulder into the house, before facing forward again. "Come in, come in! Teyla not with you?" Then his smile quickly faded as he took in the expression on his friend's face. "Ronon?"

"She's gone." It was all Ronon could find to say. No small talk, no pleasantries. Just the raw, bare truth, and almost more than he could manage. The scents of stew and freshly baked bread wafting through the open door nearly made him gag.

Solen's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. "_Teyla_?" he asked in a hushed voice. Behind him Selena, who'd come bustling down the hallway to greet Ronon, stood frozen in shock.

Ronon nodded, once up, once down. "There – was an explosion, in the marketplace on Atlantis. She Saw it coming – her visions – they came back, briefly. She died to keep me from dying, like in her old visions. . ." He stopped. Grief stirred deep inside him, but he slammed the lid shut on it, focusing instead on his hatred to keep himself strong.

Stumbling past Ronon, Solen sat down hard on the top step of the porch, his face sheet white. "Oh Ancestors," he whispered. Selena stumbled to a chair just inside the entryway; collapsing onto it, she raised her apron to her face and began to weep.

Ronon leaned against the post, clenching his hands into fists to hide their shaking. "The funeral – is going to be on Atlantis. Tomorrow."

Solen ran his hand through his brown hair, then over his face, his eyes closed. "Ronon, I-I can't say anything. I can't understand – I can't say."

"I know." Ronon appreciated the effort. He knew his friends felt sympathy – which he didn't really want, but that was moot. "Thanks."

"We'll be there," Solen promised, pulling himself together with a visible effort. He glanced at his sobbing wife. "And – and you know that, if there's _anything_ Selena or I can do, don't hesitate to ask."

Letting out his breath, Ronon furiously rubbed his eyes. He would _not_ cry. Not now. Not yet. "I know. Thank you, Solen. You're – just thank you, brother."

Standing, Solen made as if to reach out to embrace him. Ronon thought he controlled his instinctive wince; but his friend abruptly stepped back and offered him a salute, his sharpest and crispest. "There is nowhere in this galaxy where the person who is responsible can hide," he said grimly. "I will do all I can to help you find him."

"Just promise to save him for me if you find him first." Ronon's fingers twitched, anxious to hold a weapon – more than that, to _use_ his weapon.

Solen's lips twisted into a dangerous smile. "I will, my friend – but he might not be in perfect shape."

Ronon returned his friend's salute. "I don't expect him to be, brother."

**-Atlantis-**

On the cliffs above Atlantis's magnificent ocean, in full view of the Water City, Ronon stood with his hands in his pockets, long fingers clenched into fists. Narrow-eyed, he stared straight ahead, eyes avoiding the coffin sitting silently a few feet in front of him. Everyone who knew Teyla agreed this would be the best place to bury her, knowing how she'd loved Atlantis, and the wild freedom of the ocean.

To his right, Illydia kept flashing him looks from under her broad-brimmed black hat. Ronon ignored her, mentally all but removing himself from the proceedings. Despite his best efforts to block them, though, images flashed across his mind:

_Their first meeting, in the dark of her tent on Athos, and later the long hours they'd spent nursing each other through fever within its confines. He'd so nearly blown everything – or so he'd thought. But, soulmates or not, maybe their love, their total commitment to each other and their purpose, would have somehow been less strong if not for those initial obstacles to trust and acceptance;_

_The first time he'd brought her to Atlantis. The freshness of Teyla's wonder and amazement had made him feel like he was seeing it all for the first time, too._ Pain twisted through his gut._ There'd been an assassination attempt during that visit, but they'd survived it. As they'd survived all the dangers inherent in discovering and fulfilling their destiny._

Anger burned along his veins with his heartbeat, throbbing in his temples and his tightly clenched muscles. He struggled with the urge to throw back his head and howl out his pain, his bewildered grief. _We were supposed to be living our happily-ever-after!_ Different images flooded past the barricades he'd built to hold them back: _Teyla's eyes, the way they sparkled even when she didn't laugh aloud, and the way they gleamed with a darker fire as he carried her to their bedroom. The subtly spicy scent of her hair and skin, the sweetly rounded warmth and strength of her in his arms, the lilting huskiness of her voice whenever she said, "I love you, Ronon Dex." All gone now, forever. . ._

The Athosian elder presiding over the funeral stepped back, head bowed. The motion, noted automatically from the corner of his eye, distracted him from his inward agony. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he focused on holding the breath – and with it, the searing agony – inside, while resuming his mindless stare towards the horizon.

One by one, people began to drift off. Only a few stayed: Illydia and Carson; Solen and Selena; Elizabeth and John; Rodney; even Detective Lorne – the closest of his friends. He felt them watching him silently, perhaps waiting for some sign from him, before they turned their attention to the casket.

"It is not right," Illydia whispered, her voice a harsh rasp breaking the silence.

Ronon barely blinked. "Nothing will be right again."

The Athosian priest sent them a long look, gauging their expressions. Ronon's made him silently turn and follow the others who had left.

Illydia's small, slender hands clenched into fists. "_No_." Before anyone could guess her intent, she strode forward to the casket and undid the heavy metal latches, throwing open the lid. Ronon's roar of outrage broke off in a strangled gasp.

Horrified, Carson and John jerked forward as one to restrain her. "Illydia!" her husband cried. "What are y'doin'?"

"Proving a point!" Turning back to Ronon, Illydia pointed at Teyla. The high neck of her dress hid the damage to her throat and neck from flying debris, just as long sleeves and opaque gloves concealed the slices across her hands and wrists.

Ronon blanched at the sight of her. He'd tried to keep from seeing her like this in his mind. He stumbled back a step. He wanted to remember her as she'd been in life, not like this: cold, still, dead.

"_What are you doing?"_ John growled from between his teeth, without seeming to realize he'd repeated Carson. Elizabeth, Solen, and Selena had all moved unconsciously closer to Ronon, fresh tears welling into the women's eyes.

Illydia defiantly glared at them all, one against eight. "No matter how well Carson's cure worked, I _am_ still part Wraith inside," she said fiercely. "One of Teyla's gifts was the ability to sense the Wraith. She and I could tell when the other was around, though neither of us understood it at first. I was not sure before, because I wasn't that close to her – but _this woman_ is not Teyla! I cannot sense her at all!" She looked at them all with impassioned eyes, begging them to believe her.

"She's dead," Ronon said lifelessly. He refused to let hope sink in with her words, to think that _maybe_ – somehow, against all odds – Teyla really _was_ alive. He couldn't bear to think of the additional suffering disappointment would cause him.

"He's right," Carson said. "It's logical that such sensin' would apply only if both of you were alive?" He made it sound more like a question than a statement.

Illydia hissed. While not as impressive a sound as when she'd been a Wraith, it still sent a shiver down Ronon's spine. "It is in her life code, my husband. That does _not_ change when someone dies! This woman has never had the ability to sense the Wraith in her life! I do not know who she is, but she is not Teyla Dex! She is an imposter!"

_-To Be Continued-_

**Bunnylass**: Oh, thank you! I must admit, though, the last was a very hard chapter to write. I hated putting Ronon through that, all the grief and pain. . . That part, however, I did enjoy. Though Ronon didn't necessarily trust Illydia at first, he knows he has a good, trustworthy friend in her. And he's going to be enlisting some more help in this chapter. Thank you so very much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**bailey1ak**: Thank you! Yes, Ronon's warrior side is definitely starting to show once more. Though he will have quite a few friends to help him out in his quest – and to help him keep his perspective, when needed. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**SpaceMonkey0941**: I know! Returning to Dark!Ronon has been quite a refreshing experience – and I promise a lot more of him in the future! Though the last chapter was a little hard to write, considering the depth of Ronon's grief. But this one. . . Well, I think you'll see what I mean. LOL I also think the end of this chapter might help a little on your hypothesis – I look forward to hearing if it does or not! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! -hugs-

**TubaPrincess**: I promise, this chapter will shed some light on Teyla's vision, and why the last one didn't come true. It might also help to answer a few other questions. . . Actually, the prologue was a look at the future, and then I went back and picked up time a little before that, then carried it up through and past the "incident." Thank you so much for the review, and I really hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!


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